


Don’t Let Me Go Yet

by concavepatterns



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Feelings Realization, Hugs, Love Confessions, M/M, all the soft feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 22:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21381562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concavepatterns/pseuds/concavepatterns
Summary: “Gonna hit me now?” Rhett’s voice comes out sounding oddly deep and he tries to swallow the roughness away as Link lets out an amused huff of breath, craning his neck back to look up at him.The smile on his face is so openly fond, it hits Rhett square in the chest and he feels himself returning it on instinct. As natural as scratching an itch or squinting after stepping out into sunlight. A built-in bodily response ofLink’s happy, I’m happy.“Nah, you know I’m more of a lover than a fighter,” Link dismisses, fighting a grin. “Think I’m gonna hug you instead.”
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin & Link Neal, Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 29
Kudos: 134





	Don’t Let Me Go Yet

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of feelings after that Buies Creek documentary and nowhere to put them, so this happened.

It’s not unusual for them to stay this late.

Time always seems to move at a faster pace when they’re together; conversations easily veering off-course until they’ve explored ten different tangents, a half hour brainstorming session suddenly tripling in time once the creative juices get flowing and they get lost in sharing increasingly imaginative what-ifs.

Tonight there’s no real culprit though.

Rhett’s got emails to answer and Link – his ride home – insisted he’d rather wait and spend some down-time here than leave Rhett to Uber it home on his own. That was Link’s reasoning anyway, but honestly Rhett thinks they both kind of like to savour nights like this. When it’s just the two of them again, like the old days. It’s becoming a rarer and rarer occurrence the more their business has started to grow and expand.

A slight ache’s starting to form behind Rhett’s eyes so he looks up from the screen of his computer, swiveling around in his chair and rubbing one hand tiredly over his face. God, can you hire a ghost-writer for work emails? That’s a thing he should definitely look into.

When he eventually drops his hand and his vision un-blurs, Link is the first thing to come into focus on the other side of the room.

He's sitting on the couch reading something on his phone, one leg tucked up under him in a position that's probably more suited to a twelve year old than a grown-ass man, but that's just part of Link's charm. 

Rhett instinctively smiles at the sight, knowing that in about twenty minutes' time he's gonna have to listen to Link's monologue of complaints when he tries to stand up and inevitably finds that his foot's fallen asleep. The guy never learns.

Leaning back to stretch out the growing stiffness in his spine, he watches the way Link’s eyebrows pull together as he concentrates on whatever he’s reading. Counts a total of four times he touches his glasses in the span of only about two minutes. Studies the way he can never seem to sit perfectly still, one hand or foot always in active motion.

It’s oddly comforting to be able to recognize all the subtle little quirks that make up Link. Like it somehow lends proof to all their years spent together. Concrete evidence that no matter what, their history is always going to be there, transcending everything else. It’s pretty wild to think about, but under the awe and craziness of it all, at the core there’s a deep-running current of safety. A security blanket that’s ever-present, always there for him when Rhett needs it, constant and reassuring. Just like Link himself.

_I love him_, Rhett realizes and it's like a million little pieces that've been floating around loose and lost inside of him suddenly snap into place. It feels right. Centering. Like a whole bunch of vague unknowns have finally slid into crystal-clear focus.

Huh.

His face must be doing something weird while he’s coming to terms with all that, because Link’s now abandoning his phone on the cushion beside him, watching Rhett with something resembling a frown. “You okay, man? You look spooked, like you’ve seen a ghost or somethin’. You been communicating with our friendly studio Casper again?”

Rhett startles a little, blinking to bring himself back into the moment. “Uh, yeah,” he answers, gladly taking the out. It’s certainly easier than explaining he’d been mentally replaying every thought he’s had about Link over the last thirty-plus years under a brand new light. “I think he’s saying ‘Link is a pain in the ass.’”

Link laughs one of those loud, delighted laughs that never fail to make Rhett smile. “Screw you, man,” he chuckles, trying to sound miffed but failing entirely.

“Hey, I’m just the spiritual vessel.” Rhett grins, fully leaning into the joke now and raising both palms up innocently. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Link rolls his eyes, exasperated but entertained nonetheless. It’s a fine line, getting him worked up into that state of happy annoyance without it teetering over the edge into genuine upset; a skill that Rhett’s pleased to say he’s perfected over the years. “You’re _somethin’_,” Link says, grumbling just for show, “don’t know why I put up with you half the time."

Rhett snorts, easily slipping into their usual line of bantering when he replies, “You know you love me.”

The words don’t come out quite as smooth as they normally would, his voice unconsciously wobbling over the L-word now that he knows his own definition of the feeling isn’t sitting in purely platonic grounds anymore.

Because he can’t seem to catch a damn break, naturally Link notices. He doesn’t immediately call Rhett out, though. Instead, the last traces of teasing humor slowly slide from his face and he tips his head to the side a little, studying Rhett like he’s an abstract piece of art or something, requiring a few contemplative moments of thought and interpretation.

Rhett sweats more in those couple of seconds than he has in the last week of his gym workouts combined.

When Link finally fills the silence, his voice is quieter but sure. “Yeah,” he answers simply. “I do.”

Rhett waits for the 'like a brother' that always accompanies that statement.

It never comes.

Instead a weirdly stilted silence follows and Rhett swallows, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. The skin there feels warmer than usual.

It isn't often they get _real_ like this; maybe once or twice a year at best. It's usually reserved for big life events that tend to bring out the nostalgia in both of them. The birth of a child, a milestone GMM episode. Not hanging around their office at 8 pm on a regular Tuesday.

Rhett's never been the best at expressing heartfelt emotion, but something in the look on Link's face tells him that Link needs this, so he pushes down his rising sense of embarrassment and replies, "I love you too, man," before ducking his chin down and spinning back to face his computer, desperate for a distraction.

That should be the end of it. Under normal circumstances it would be.

But it isn’t. Not this time.

"How much?"

The question startles him and when Rhett automatically twists around, his gaze locks with Link's like a magnet and steel snapping together. Drawn in with a force too great to ignore. "Uh, what?" He fumbles for words, thinking he must've misheard.

Behind his glasses, Link's eyes are a bright, electric blue. Almost hard to look at. Like a solar eclipse or something, if the side effects of an eclipse also happened to include hearing your pulse pound in your ears and a mouth gone dry.

"How much do you love me?" Link repeats. His voice sounds steady, fearless, but his throat's bobbing and one palm is rubbing anxiously over the knee of his jeans. Small tells that Rhett only knows from a lifetime of observing them.

His own palms are starting to feel a little sweaty by extension, so he rubs them over the tops of his thighs before lifting one hand up to run through his hair. A nervous gesture of his own, maybe.

"Um... a lot?" His voice ticks up half an octave at the end, making it sound like a question when it really isn't, so he clears his throat and makes to start over, trying to give Link the kind of answer he deserves. His best friend's laying down all his cards, so Rhett figures the least he can do is match Link in the honesty department, hard as that might be.

"A lot," he confirms with more confidence this time, still holding Link's gaze even though it makes his stomach squirm and face feel increasingly hot. There's more he needs to say but with the way his heart's pounding he's gotta buy himself some time first; one more breath in and out, a quick lick of his chapped lips. Trying to gather his remaining courage so he can finally put words to something they've both probably known since forever. "You're the most important person in my life, Link."

He can hear Link's breath hitch, see the way his lips part with surprise then press into a straight, controlled line like he's trying not to...something. Laugh? Cry? Rhett can't quite tell. Frankly, he feels like he could flip a coin right now and land on either option as an appropriate physical reaction.

Emotions, man. It's scary stuff.

Eventually, Link seems to settle on a combination of the two: a laugh that's thick and weighted with feeling, holding the possibility of tears like a cloud hangs onto raindrops.

"Same, man." He smiles wide and a little goofy, nudging his glasses up before he unfolds himself from his seat on the sofa, taking a single step forward and almost face-planting directly onto the floor.

Rhett hops up from his chair on instinct, as if there's any chance he could possibly lunge across all that space and catch him in time. "Jesus," he mutters, that sharp, initial spike of concern slowly ebbing back out of him as he watches Link fumble to regain his balance, transferring all his weight to the opposite leg and hopping in place with even less coordination than he usually possesses, which is saying something. "You okay?"

"Ahh," Link grimaces, "my dang foot fell asleep."

Honestly, it’s a wonder he’s made it to forty-one in one piece.

Rhett lets his expression do all the talking for him, eyebrows inching up and a smug, closed-mouth 'I told you so' smile pulling at his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Once Link's finally gotten himself stabilized, out of breath and one foot still hovering gingerly over the floor, their eyes accidentally catch. His hair's starting to flop down across his forehead and he's flushed like he just sprinted a mile rather than simply flailing around on one foot like a drunk flamingo.

They stare at each other and two second of dead silence tick by before Rhett breaks first.

He's been trying to hold the laugh in so when it does come out it's sputtering, immediately setting Link off into his own round of high-pitched laughter, head tipping back as he cackles up at the ceiling, nearly losing his balance all over again.

"You're gonna give yourself a concussion someday," Rhett chuckles, trying to catch his breath. He's grinning so hard his whole face kind of hurts. "I'm not entirely sure you haven't already. Sure would explain a lot."

"Oh, gosh," Link wheezes out between laughs, bending forward to brace his hands on his thighs like a runner gasping for air. "I still can't walk. Get over here so I can punch you."

There’s a very real chance Link will follow through on that threat, but Rhett finds himself going anyway, stepping around his abandoned chair and closing the distance between them with a few long strides.

“You need a hand, brother?” He asks half-jokingly, laying steadying palms on the tops of Link’s shoulders and squeezing lightly.

Link feels as reassuringly warm and solid as always. It’s nice, and Rhett lets his hands stay there longer than he normally would. He can laugh it off as part of the joke when Link inevitably bats him away or wriggles out from under the touch.

Only Link never does.

He straightens up from his half-bent position slowly, movements careful enough that it kind of feels like he’s specifically trying _not_ to dislodge Rhett’s hands. Maybe he finds it comforting too.

Once Link’s back up at his full height, it becomes obvious that Rhett misjudged how close he needed to stand; the sides of their shoes are touching and when he looks down, all he can mainly see is Link’s forehead and silver-streaked hair, the rest of him hidden by the sharp angle.

“Gonna hit me now?” Rhett’s voice comes out sounding oddly deep and he tries to swallow the roughness away as Link lets out an amused huff of breath, craning his neck back to look up at him.

The smile on his face is so openly fond, it hits Rhett square in the chest and he feels himself returning it on instinct. As natural as scratching an itch or squinting after stepping out into sunlight. A built-in bodily response of _Link’s happy, I’m happy_.

“Nah, you know I’m more of a lover than a fighter,” Link dismisses, fighting a grin. “Think I’m gonna hug you instead.”

It’s far from the answer Rhett expects, but Link has always been good at surprising him with those left-field comments that come out of nowhere, whether they’re hilarious or heartfelt. And now that he’s got Link this close, still feeling a little tender inside after those exchanged I-love-you’s, the idea of hugging him sounds too good to pass up.

Clearing his throat, Rhett lets his hands move from where they’re still gripping Link’s shoulders, sliding up and curving them forward until they’re resting at the back of Link’s neck in a loose embrace, elbows now braced on Link’s shoulders instead.

“Have at it, brother.” The words are spoken with way more confidence than he feels, but it’s worth it for the way Link grins up at him in response. It’s so...pretty, for lack of a better word. Full of white teeth and lingering humor and honest affection as he wraps his arms around Rhett’s middle and tucks his nose into the front of Rhett's soft blue hoodie.

He can feel Link’s hands bunched up in the fabric on his back so Rhett tightens his arms in return, until they’re pressed flush together and hugging in earnest.

“I meant it, y’know,” Link says after a few seconds of quiet, the words coming out mumbled against Rhett’s chest. “When I said ‘same’, it maybe didn’t sound like I meant it as much as you meant it, but I do,” he explains, angling his head to the side and settling his cheek more comfortably on Rhett. The new position makes the corner of his glasses dig uncomfortably into Rhett’s sternum, but Rhett doesn’t care. Any inkling of pain registers as a far distant second compared to the wave of emotion he feels when Link finishes with: “You’re my most important person, too.”

Rhett leans his face into the top of Link’s head and closes his eyes. How’s he supposed to respond to that? There aren’t any words he could say that’d feel sufficient enough, so he just tucks his arms more tightly around Link and murmurs into his hair, “Bo.”

They grew out of using the nickname years ago but somehow it feels appropriate now, and he guesses Link feels it too from the way he digs his fingers into Rhett’s back and makes a surprised, pleased noise in his throat.

“We should go home soon,” Link eventually says after an indeterminable amount of time passes like that. Just two dudes intensely hugging out 35-odd years of friendship in the quiet emptiness of their office. “S’getting late.”

Despite being the one to make the suggestion, he doesn’t actually move.

Rhett gets that.

Slowly breathing out, he nuzzles his nose into the fluffed-up top of Link’s hair and lets himself be okay with wanting this. With hanging on tight. With saying the things he was too afraid to before. With still wanting to keep so much of Link for himself, even after decades of living in each other’s pockets.

It’s okay because it’s them. And this is what they do.

“Five more minutes,” he reasons, not shying away from the huskiness that creeps into his voice this time.

Link leans into him a little harder, letting himself go boneless almost like a trust exercise, knowing that Rhett will always be there to hold the extra weight. “Yeah,” he agrees, soft and easy. “Five more minutes.”


End file.
